Feathers
by Shiroshitsujis
Summary: His new master was annoying, naive, and too hyper for his taste, but, while discovering her unique traits and unraveling the many secrets of the Kiran Mansion, he was constantly being surprised, to put it mildly. Rated T for multiple reasons.
1. Chapter 1

His eyes rested on the occupant of the worn, decaying rock, molded into a small bench. He stood directly in front of the boy who had been carefully observing his every movement, his every breath for the past few minutes. His hands flexed momentarily, bloodied knuckles popping audibly with the relaxing movement. While blinking slowly, cinnamon eyes morphed into a sickly shade of magenta while black slits decorated the center of his discerning eyes. His standard uniform had been irrevocably tarnished by the blood of the foes that had been made his when he signed that contract. The boy stared at him, bursting with enough emotion to rival that of the dead. The boy's hands were speckled with black soot and thick grease from the old bridge, but none of the dirt managed to snag onto the expensive, specially-designed garments. A speck of dirt on the button of a small, curved nose would have been cute if the situation had not been so undisputably morbid.

Since the first sight of the arrogant demon, Ciel had known that this day would come; it had been looming over his head since that life-changing moment... He had spent much time and much money for this day, preparing the Funtom Company, training his servants to aid the next family head with the most efficiency possible, cleaning the streets of London with a brutally vigilant eye. But something that he couldn't meticulously prepare for, something that _no one_ could prepare for, was this, having your very soul eaten-stolen-by a vicious demon.

"Young Master," He began, ghostly voice insinuating the gruesome inevitable,"it is time." They finally locked eyes, hungry fuchsia meeting excruciatingly dignified sapphire.

"I am aware. Take it, then...your payment." At the command, he stalked towards the boy, painfully reminiscent of his true nature despite the human-looking shell.

...There was nothing, no fear, no worries, no joy, no sadness, nothing, except for the burning, unexpected _relief _coursing wildly through his veins; it made him want to sag back into the bench, a _completely_ uncharacteristic movement. One would think that adrenaline would rush through him, making him want to run for the fear of it all, but it wasn't like that. He was so incredibly_ relieved _that it was over; everything, while it had not gone entirely to plan, was finished, never to be experienced again...

...Sebastian leaned forward, his nose almost brushing the boy's, "Yes..my lord." He said, fluid as ever. Those final words, he _would_ say them again soon.

* * *

It had only taken a few days for his service to be requested, once again, by a member of the human race.

This time it was a child with choppy black hair that barely reached past her ears and faintly covered ice-hued eyes. The child, a girl presumably, turned jerkily, hair rustling in tandem, to observe the room, if one could call it that. An area devoid of any colour save for the abundant, falling feathers, jet-black in contrast with the colourlessness of the room met the intrigued pair of blue eyes. After she was satisfied with her inspection, an expression of shock manifested on her face at his presence.

Staring emotionlessly at his summoner, "What is it that you want?" Hopefully, although he was not one to believe in such things as _'hope'_, he would be in for a treat, yet again. Maybe, he could get a streak going.

Foolishly locking eyes with the demon, "W-what? ...Who are you?" The young raven-haired girl gasped out, stopping the sentence midway because of an unknown fear that lurked in her heart at the sight of this... thing.

"That which you have summoned." His eyes narrowed marginally. The first few times he had done this, it had been amusing, the frighted human, the stuttering, the shivering, as if something had liberally poured freezing water upon the poorly dressed girl. Ciel had responded with such _enthusiasm,_ such _thirst_ for his demonic power, and Sebastian had appreciated the hiatus from the normal.

Blinking multiple times, "I ...summoned you?" The disbelief in her inquiry was blatantly obvious. The way her large, doe-like eyes widened had given it away as well.

Briefly inspecting the rest of the girl, "Yes. You summoned me because you have a wish that I can accomplish." He explained calmly, fluidly. This child had no idea of the magnitude of this rare occurrence. Wish-granting demons didn't just pop out of nowhere.

"What do you want in return?" Calming slightly, she foolishly saw no harm in speaking with a man who had seemingly appeared out of thin air and as such reverted back to the inquisitive style of speech for which she was known.

"I will house your soul within myself." Hn. That was interesting. Ciel hadn't asked that question before making the contract; he had been too rushed during the first meeting to sort out even the simplest of details.

"But you'll help me?" She confirmed, almost unbelieving of the remarkable situation in which she found herself.

"Yes. Do you wish to make the deal?" He had to be sure. He didn't want to get backed out on midway; it made the task that much more boring.

"Really?" Her jaw dropped in disbelief and pale blue eyes went wide with happiness.

"I do not joke." Not that much anyway.

"Yes! Yes, of course." Those words were uttered quickly, almost without thought as his new master was considering the endless possibilities with a demon at her side.

'Finally' he thought. The words that had sealed fates and promised sustenance were spoken.

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Now, this story will be written as an AU about what would have happened if Sebastian really did eat Ciel's soul at the end of the first season of the anime. If you find anything like OOCness, grammatical errors, or you want to tell me your thoughts on the story, please let me know.


	2. Chapter 2

'**Blah'= thoughts**

**"Blah"= speech**

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The newly leashed demon teleported himself within the area where the child resided, clad in the garments that he wore when he first met the young master.

"Hi! Are you my new helper? We need to talk somewhere more secluded. My name's Robin! What's your name?" The child spoke rapidly but whispered because they were in the children's sleeping quarters. Since a demon's ears are much more adept than a human's, he understood the excitedly hurried speech and replied proficiently.

"Yes, I am yours to do whatever you wish. We can venture to anywhere of your choosing. You may call me whatever you desire." While his response was straightforward, it was still cordial.

"Okay. Let's go to the cellar, but be quiet. The last time I got caught sneaking into the cellar, I was punished." He maintained a straight face but was cringing inwardly at the raven-haired child's unnecessary information and enthusiasm. The urchin's habit of acting like she was on a sugar frenzy would probably become an annoyance.

The moon was high in the sky, ominous clouds almost blocking the crescent-shaped orb. Even though the child must have just woken up, Robin was incredibly hyper; it must've been a natural character-trait.

She grasped his cursed hand, guiding him to the cellar, tiny, calloused fingers were made that much smaller by his larger glove clad ones.

She was shorter than Ciel and only reached two inches above his hip even though he estimated the child's age was near to the young master's. Short, tousled, onyx-coloured hair framed the child's heart-shaped face, and pale blue eyes shined with amiability

He had placed the contract curse mark on the wee palm of the child's right hand. His mark was in the customary place: the back of his left hand. The ceremony had been performed within the dream, but, much to his surprise, she hadn't hollered in pain or let a tear gather in her ice-blue eyes. Although, she had not resisted the urge to crinkle her nose and faintly whimper.

As the cellar greeted their line of sight, the raven-haired child started whispering again. "You _must_ be called _something_. What is it? If you let _me_ name you, it will probably be a really stupid name." Robin informed him honestly, incoherently humming in deep thought.

He didn't doubt that. Not one bit. Although he usually allowed his current master to name him for the duration of the task, he didn't feel like being called a _more_ insulting title."Before I met you, I was known as Sebastian Michaelis."

"That's not good. _My_ master is named Sebastian and everyone would get confused. Can I call you Sebby?" Robin began speaking in a more hurried manner,"Actually that sounds stupid. How about Mikhail?"

It's better than what the redheaded reaper referred to him as. Brandishing the smile he was known for, he replied, "That sounds fine."

Returning the smile, albeit a bit more brilliantly, "Alright... Mikhail."

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For those of you that are curious about the length of these installments, I cannot promise anything, right now. Sorry.

I will say this now so that no one gets confused. I will not, for the most part, refer to Sebastian as Sebastian. His current name is Mikhail.


	3. Chapter 3

Once they arrived in the cellar, Robin began speaking in a normal voice, well... as normal as the hyper child was capable.

Mikhail noticed right away that the cellar was well kept. It had been swept and mopped recently and not a speck of dust could be found upon the shelves. The crimson wines and antique liqueurs were arranged by age. Some from as far back as the 1790's. The unique teas were familiar to Mikhail, suggesting that the head of the household was some kind of English nobility. A door to left lead to the freezer rooms which contained vast collections of sumptuous meats and other cold, high quality cuisines. The breads and pastries had ornate, gold French seals on their packaging. Even the lighting in the cellar was extravagant. Off-white coloured wax was shaped in, what he assumed to be, the emblem of the family residing here.

Judging by the girl's low quality, albeit clean, clothing and place of rest, his new master was a low-ranked servant. A military style dog-tag necklace hung loosely around the pale child's fragile neck, reaching past delicate ribs, and a light bruise was visible on the bridge of the urchin's nose. 'Most likely my new master wears glasses.' He figured.

In order to complete the contract accurately, he needed to understand more about the bright-eyed child's predicament. "What is it that you require of me?" Inquired Michael. Robin didn't seem like the kind of person to desire some form of revenge.

"I want you... _to make the prince fall in love_ _with me!_ So then, I can stab him in the heart, like he did to Anna!" The last part was whispered while she gazed lower, remembering the kind-hearted maid.

His eyes widened in surprise at the unflinching determination in the child's, normally squeaky voice. "Very well. May I ask why you must make him fall in love with you before you murder him?" Michael inquired thoughtfully.

Anna had been a high-ranking servant who had caught the attention of the prince. One may believe that this was a fortunate occurrence; however, their assumption would be incorrect. Over the course of time she had spent with the young prince, she had grown quite fond of him, but he didn't possess similar feelings. The prince had found her an amusing toy and had discarded her as such.

Anna was one of Robin's most treasured friends, if not _the most treasured_. She had much experience and authority as a maid, and had even taken the young girl under her wing and taught her everything she knew.

Once she knew of Anna's death, the pale girl had holed herself up within the servants quarters for five days without food. After much persuasion from the other servants, the girl finally left the room, 'Only for food,' the young servant had fervently told herself. Even after weeks after the whole ordeal, Robin still wept in secret.

But, after Mikhail had promised to help the her, Robin was filled with a hope like no other.


	4. Chapter 4

After witnessing the dauntless child's declaration, Mikhail heard Robin mutter with a quiet determination, while tears formed in those pale blue eyes. "I-I will. I will avenge her."

"The moon is high, master. You should return to your bed, lest you catch a cold." He knew that there were still some things they would need to discuss. It was late though, and humans need plenty of sleep in order to function, as he had been informed many times.

"Okay."

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During the onyx-haired child's slumber, Mikhail thoroughly investigated the mansion and kept a mental map of the almost-endless hallways. Because he took additional care to be stealthy, the tuxedo-clad demon hadn't encountered any of the mansion's inhabitants.

The floors were made of the darkest sienna wood that sparkled because of the recently applied polishes. The walls painted white with black, hand-made designs. Regal paintings were arranged strategically along the clean walls. A bouquet of the whitest roses, positioned in the very center of of a matching sienna stand, could be found approximately every 35 feet, and silver chandeliers had been stationed along the ceiling, currently turned off as no one strolled about this time of night.

The entire mansion was spotless; even the ex-butler couldn't find a speck of dirt.

He discovered that there were three servants' quarters. The men retained their own space, the women had been given a slightly smaller area, and the children's quarters, where Robin currently resided, had the very least amount of room.

Each of the servants' quarters maintained a similar design: black and whiten striped walls with white-sheeted bunk beds placed in every open space, save for the center, as that was the only walkway to the servants' bathrooms which were also well kept, and a small dark wood dresser/nightstand was the only thing that separated the currently occupied bunk beds.

The kitchen had enough food to feed an army, not a small one either. The bedroom-sized pantry fully stocked with almost any-and every-English food anyone could ever desire. _He_ was even impressed with the amount of high-quality utensils and other pieces of cookware. The pots pans were a rich, glossy black colour.

The library was even more extensive than the kitchen. Sienna wood bookshelves with ornate carved designs caught his eye, but that wasn't what had captured his full attention so abruptly. Along with the almost endless collection of books, he found books with information about _demons_, but what was truly shocking was that some were written in his, a demon's, _native_ tongue. Michael had opened one of the books to verify the writing. His assumptions were correct, as always.

He wouldn't investigate the bedrooms of the nobles quite yet because that would risk the chance that one of the royal residents would awake for some incomprehensible reason. He would examine everything else in the morning-

_"What are you doing within the halls, you fiend?!"_


	5. Chapter 5

Mikhail stood there, frozen in shock. How had he _not_ sensed the other male's presence? A fleeting thought crossed his mind that the demon books had something to do with it, but, in his experience, humans could not read a demons' text nor speak it. Unfortunately, he had no time to mull over that subject.

The male in question appeared as if he had just rolled out of bed. His flaxen hair stuck up in several different, unflattering places, a trail of drool could be discovered on the side of his chin, and he was clad in some form of silk long johns that were rumpled in _every_ _way humanly imaginable_. Mikhail also noted that the boy had somewhat of a stuck-up aura about him, and suspected that he was some brat son of a high-ranking official.

He wore an disgusted expression on his face like it was going out of style. As if _Mikhail_ was the disgusting looking one.

"I was searching for something." It was a half truth, sure, but not an _absolute_ lie.

"Yeah, what?" The young man, the demon noticed, had an _impressively_ _obnoxious_ British accent.

"Nothing of your _concern._ Who are you, if I may ask." The older male inquired lightly.

"No, anything in this house is in my concern. And _I_ am the soon-to-be head of the family. How you _didn't_ know that is beyond me..." The British accent was only the tip of the iceberg for _this_ guy's obnoxious tendencies.

'Ah, this _must be_ the prince that Robin wants to murder...' The older male gleefully determined. 'Nonetheless, this boy is the prince, so being cordial is absolutely necessary.'

"My name is Mikhail, and I was curious about the manor that I am going to apply for. I was looking around now so that I didn't disturb anyone's schedule. I would like to discuss in the morning with the person who is responsible for the servants." Attempting to charm his way in, he was polite when speaking to the rude boy who may soon be his _employer._ Oh goody.

If he wanted to constantly protect his new master and be near to aid in the raven-haired child's revenge, than he would have to reside under the same roof.

"Fine. If you get the hell out of my mansion, I'll have someone speak with you in the morning." The teenage royalty had just been rudely awoken by strange noises and his judgement wasn't very good, _especially_ at this time of day. So, he told Mikhail the words he wanted to hear so that he, the lazy prince, could get back to his sinfully comfortable, ornately-decorated bed.

"Thank you for your time." He spoke amiably while smiling sweetly.

Before Mikahil even finished his sentence, the teenager had already started walking away... _not knowing that he had just sealed his own death._

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I don't even know why this site omits some words from my chapters. If you see one please point it out to me. I think I got most of them, but my eyes aren't exactly perfect.

Also the length of these chapters will normally range from 450 words to 650 words. Just in case anyone was wondering. The longest amount of time I would probably take to update is about a week... or two.


	6. Chapter 6

After the fiasco with the prince, the clouds had birthed a thick rain. So the noiret decided to check on Robin.

The children's quarters was well-kept also. Abnormally, he could locate no toys or keepsakes of any nature. In fact, most of the children shared a similar scent as some of the adults, suggesting that the children were the offspring of the other servants. It _was_ common for noblemen to use the offspring of maids and manservants as future domestic help.

He also noticed while verifying his master's safety that the young servant dressed like a boy. From observing the other sleeping children, he could tell that the female children were in fact given different garments than the male children. He could not grasp why Robin choose to dress like she did. Maybe, she was a tomboy. He would _have_ to change the way the she dressed. It was hard to obtain masculine attention while clad in such unflattering clothing. Her short, choppy black hair didn't help much either.

The young female appeared restless in her sleep... like she was experiencing a nightmare. She was panting silently, and Mikhail observed drops of liquid pouring like rain from the girl's eyelashes, soaking the pillow behind her ears. Small hands were clutching the comforter with enough intensity to rip them. Anna's death had really scarred her by the terrible way she was trembling.

She was in fact lightly tearing the blankets in her sleep. It would be wasting to tear them, he thought. With only the innocent intent to calm her, he placed his large palm on her throbbing wrist, half-knowing that she would wake up.

It was approximately an hour before the light of dawn. The quarters was without any light save for the meagre white-wax candles positioned at seemingly random along the wall, dimmed by the thick glass covering that prevented house fires. The steady precipitation was the most prevalent noise heard within the normally hectic mansion. The sleeping children's breathing and snoring was the other, less-pronounced noise detected.

The room was decorated with more simplicity than the other rooms that he had examined. Well, scarcity would be a more precise adjective. A bathroom dominated a quarter of the room, and the grey wall paper was peeling atrociously, a sign of its age and the inhabitants of the room that it decorated.

Blue-hued eyes widened, becoming doe-like in appearance, and she gasped. Mikhail, still clad in his jet-black uniform, was made that much more grim while bathed in the dim candlelight. Crimson eyes shone under the lack of light. His cream-toned skin became more ghostly... if that was even possible and appeared more striking under his dark uniform. 'He's beautiful' she pondered absurdly. 'He'd probably get mad if I told him that though.' The servant added as an afterthought.

To the child, Mikhail's first entrance was surreal. When Robin saw him for the very first time, she still wouldn't be able to explain how she felt at the Hellish creature's overpowering aura and fear-inducing visage.

At first, Robin thought that this thing was going to kill her instantaneously. However after being offered the deal of a lifetime, dreadful pun intended, she found that if the prince could actually die by her own power... she wouldn't mind selling her soul to a demon.


	7. Chapter 7

"You were having a nightmare." The older male pointed out gently, as if _that_ was the _only_ reason he had awoken the equally pale girl. Well, she _was_ about to destroy her cheap bedspread.

"Ah." Something was definitely wrong if the normally enthusiastic female would give a one-word answer to any question... _ever._ Mikhail doubted that the animated servant had ever given a one-word answer in her _life_. She was too exuberant to do such a thing.

"I was scared that you were just a illusion, born from my lack of sleep." Robin admitted quietly while glancing up carefully, having recovered mostly from the trembling. His presence had soothed her almost immediately after escaping from the horrible nightmare.

"I am not a dream, nor will I ever be. I have promised to never leave your side, and I intend to keep that promise. I will even follow you into the depths of Hell. I do not lie the same way that humans do." He assured smoothly whilst removing his gloves. Maybe pledged would be more accurate. The child brightened up visibly at his words; they had truly comforted her...more than he would ever know.

Switching the topic, "I will meet with someone in the morning to discus my position within the mansion." He informed.

"You're going to work with me-!? _Mmpf_." The former butler had covered her mouth_-half of her face really-_with his large, bare hand so that she would refrain awaking the children with the surrounding vicinity. That would cause too grand of an uproar for one night.

The young servant's skin was_... _soft, seemingly untouched by the, currently pouring, elements. Under his palm, chapped lips had formed a grin that was probably bright enough to light up the entire quarters.

He honestly could not comprehend why this particular human was so joyful while in his presence... or in general. He had sensed an unprecedented desire for vengeance in their first encounter. Where was that implacable hatred now?

"My apologies." He removed his palm from the girl's mouth. Although, judging by the size of the smile on the the child's face, no real damage was done. "I do not want to disturb anyone in the area. So please maintain an appropriate volume during the wee hours of the morning." He whispered firmly.

"You should get back to bed, master." He continued, determined, this time, to put her to sleep.

"Don't call me that; no one calls _me_ that. Call me Ro. Plus, if we're going to work together, it'll be weird if you call me 'master'." She informed him, her noodle-sized fingers doing air-quotes when saying the word "master".

He is, and has always been, obligated to obey his master. Trying it on for size,"Alright... Ro." He spoke her name with a customary grin.

Releasing a cheerful noise, the girl smiled too, the almost blinding brightness of her soul being shown through the pale blue orbs.

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Just a bit-a-fluff.


	8. Chapter 8

I realize that I've never said this before...so here it goes. I do _**not**_ Kuroshitsuji. I wish I had Yana Toboso's drawing talent, though.

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Lightly pressing against her torso, he guided her into a lying position before draping the faintly ripped blanket over the small child. She was still looking at him with those big, round eyes, her lips having twisted upward in a small, less-blinding smile. Her head fell against the pillow comically, her hands against the cushion in an I-surrender fashion while poking out her tongue and winking. Consequently, her nose crinkled and and a light erratic puff of laughing breath escaped grinning lips.

Was she always this goofy? 'Hopefully not,' the seasoned demon pondered.

After bidding goodnight, Mikhail, convinced that his job was done for the night, set a smooth, steady pace towards the worn doors because heaven knew she would never fall asleep with him there. She would probably love to talk his ear off rather than sleep, even though she could-and most likely would-in the morning.

"Wait!" She rushed abruptly, messily undoing the sheets he had purposely tucked around her.

He halted and glanced over his shoulder as a form of response.

Focusing her gaze lower at the small, twiddling fingers, "Anna used to give me a... kiss on the forehead after she tucked me in. It always... helped me sleep." The young girl admitted almost shyly, staring sadly at the familiar blanket that had been wrapped around her strategically.

Understanding the obvious request, he ambled over nonchalantly to her bedside. He didn't know if she would really sleep better after receiving a kiss, but he did know that a kiss _was_ an action humans regarded as comforting. So, it had a chance to work... _in theory_.

He was a demon, a beast born to be cold and prey upon the unknowing and innocent. He was _definitely not_ born to _comfort_ anyone. However, an order, albeit an implied one, was still an order.

She had shut her eyes in expectance. So, he leaned down and placed his lips over the forehead of his prey.

Not even two seconds after he had removed his mouth, she relaxed visibly. Her breathing was already deep, her chest rising and falling with each slow breath. Her head had tilted to the side, her mouth parting slightly, allowing drool to gather, her right thumb perfectly poised above her lips in a blatantly child-like gesture. A pale neck was bared to his view. His teeth lengthened, and his tongue ran over his lips in obvious appreciation of the slender column, filled with the claret-coloured liquid he loved so.

He calmed himself and exited the room, excited for the day when he would feast.

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I think I like how this turned out. Hopefully, Sebastian is not too OOC. This might be a little creepy for T though.


	9. Chapter 9

With nothing better to do, Mikhail contemplated the situation at hand. The prince had told him that there would be someone to speak with in the morning. _Where would they meet? How would this person know who to talk to?_ He sighed with exasperation. In theory, he should've asked that boy more questions, but, if he had, the prince would have grown weary of him and taken back the job offer. Securing a position in the manor was the most important obstacle at the moment.

He had to bite down a chuckle at the irony. The first time he had ever been a servant for one of these contracts was for the Young Master. Now, he was to work as a servant here, in this extravagant manor. Hopefully, summoning a demon to become your servant wasn't becoming a new trend of any sort...

Losing himself in a random train of thought, the next time he glanced at the practically-sparkling window beside him, a beautiful sunrise greeted his line of vision. He could no longer use the cloak of darkness to hide his overwhelming presence. With the acute hearing of demon, the rustling of bed sheets alerted him to the state of the inhabitants of the mansion.

Loud thuds, among other things, blatantly announced the amount of distance, or lack thereof, between the newly awoken human and Mikhail. 'It is a man.' He calculated with help from the musky scent in the air. Noticing the sudden absence of footsteps, the dark-haired demon began meticulously scrutinizing the sienna wood desk, searching for some kind of clue as as to whom the work space belonged. Eventually, he identified a small piece of wood, resting upon a piece of copper, dulled and rusted from age.

Something had been engraved on it...

The name _Sebastian_ Sacris met his eyes, clear as day.

Luck was on his side that day. He had managed to locate the room of the head of the servants..._the man who would decide whether or not he would labor in the Kiran Mansion, alongside his new master._

The sienna entrance in the corner of the room opened slowly, with a obnoxious creak, a sign of the ware and tear it had been subjected to over the years.

The grey-haired man rested his gaze on Mikhail quietly, observing the demon carefully. The prince had informed him mere seconds ago of a man who wished to serve here, in the Kiran Manor. He just hadn't envisioned that the man would be so quick-to-the-punch.

He inwardly smirked.

_The show has begun._

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If you're confused, read chapter 2 again. I am _so excited_ to write the next few chapters.

_**Julie:**_ There is a legitimate reason as to why I write Sebastian as a very cold, ruthless character and Ro as a very exuberant character. It _will_ play out in the end.


	10. Chapter 10

"What is your name, Stranger?" Sacris clipped, brushing the dust off his squared shoulders, appearing calm as per usual.

"Mikhail." The more youthful male informed amiably, his lips have twisted upward in a familiar action, regarded as cordial in the human customs.

Onyx eyes, belonging to the grey-haired gentleman currently standing with a tree-like amount of movement, still peered at him with an icy, careful glare, despite Mikhail's best attempts to appear charismatic. First impressions were important, as this was what one would normally refer to as an interview. Both males were equally calm; the only difference in behavior between the two was a slight, charming smile brazenly scrawled on the lips of the unusually handsome demon.

"You have no surname?" Red-tinted cinnamon eyes widened marginally in unwanted distress. Robin had forgotten to decide on a last name for the newly contracted devil! It was either he created one on the fly or falsely admit that he had no such thing... which would result in a light barrage of inquiries that he had little time for.

Offering his glove-wrapped palm in polite gesture, "Pardon my rudeness. I am Mikhail Corvus, pleased to meet you." He fibbed smoothly, burgundy eyes crinkling with an upward curve of a pale, sinful mouth.

Clasping the outreached hand, with a measured degree of disinterest, "Sebastian Sacris. Are you the man His Majesty informed me of?" After receiving a solemn nod of affirmation, he continued, "What was your previous place of occupation? A detailed answer is most preferable." He questioned, a deep, polished British accent showing in the tired tone of his voice, his deep-set eyes still staring at the cat lover with an undisclosed level of discernment.

"My previous place of occupation was as a butler for an English nobleman. I have vast experience in cleaning, cooking, and managing other servants. If you desire a letter of recommendation, I can retrieve one easily." The seasoned beast clarified fluidly, giving a brief yet informative summary of his household prowess.

"What was the reason behind your departure of that manor?" He needed to know more about the man in front of him, for the safety of the household. At first glance, the wise, old butler had noticed a... _displeasant_ aura coming from this Mikhail fellow.

"I simply quit... on amiable terms of course." He answered, pronouncing the last part _much_ more buoyantly than the first.

Mikhail's minuscule amount of fatigue from answering the light barrage of questions was showing ever-so slightly, displayed in the perfunctory way he maintained a synthetic smile. Maybe, this man and Robin were related somehow? If that were the case, he wouldn't be horrendously shocked.

"We have need for another assistant to the head chef. You will work there, starting today. The chef will inform you where the uniforms are kept. Do you have any questions?" He spoke with his eyebrows faintly raised in expectance of a positive reply. One could tell from the tone of finality seeping from his voice that he had spent _many years_ dealing with various kinds of people.

"No. Thank you for the generous position." The noiret was still sycophantic even after achieving his goal.

Stepping soundlessly away from the sienna wood exit, "You may leave." The grey-haired butler pointed out the obvious, dull onyx eyes still regarding the smirking demon with the same caution from earlier.

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After departing from the meticulously well-kept office, Mikhail inspected his pocket watch for the third time that morning. He would have to inform Robin of the development. So, locating the honeyed scent of his new master, he found that it was most prevalent in the kitchen.

Arriving soundlessly at the aged, abused door, he could detect the breathless voice of the girl, expressing her gratitude for some form of assistance. Another voice met his demonic ears; this time, it belonged an old woman. Multiple thuds in a tandem informed him that what the old butler had spoken was true; they were quite busy and, calculating from the smell that there were only three people working in the spacious kitchen, they were low on manpower.

After rapping lightly on the scarred wood, the door opened to reveal a girl with a dirty apron, a spatula, grasped in her noodle-like fingers, and a head of short, choppy, black hair encased by a chef's hat that was _just_ a size too big.

Crimson eyes widened without shame.

"Are _you_ my new assistant?!"

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Long-ish as it is the milestone tenth note here,_ thank you_ to all those that have read and followed and favorited and reviewed. It brings me a different kind of joy.

Sacris means _sacred_ in Latin.

Corvus means _crow_/_raven_ in Latin.

I thought that would be a fun, little tidbit.


	11. Chapter 11

In this story some of the characters speak different languages. For this chapter, the only non-English language is German. Also, for those that have _not _read the manga, Sebastian speaks fluent German.

**_"German dialogue"_**

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"Are you really the head chef?" He was flabbergasted, and it took hell of a lot, cliché pun intended, to flabbergast _him._ Her baggy, patched clothing had lead him to assume that she was just a normal servant that simply cleaned the manor.

"And the head baker!" She announced with the same level of cheerfulness that she had last night. Her being a baker seemed fitting; she probably "taste-tested" all of the deserts multiple times and added too much sugar to her creations on a regular basis. His theories would soon be proven accurate.

She was already his master in the demonic sense. So, it saved him the hassle of dealing with another human, at least. Well, that may not been entirely true. A man and a woman who looked an awful lot like an old married couple had halted their work to glance curiously at the gringo; after deeming the newcomer acceptable for _Robin_ to handle, they returned to their chores, mixing batter and kneading pliant, beige dough.

She gestured to a white door with equally white flour that had been sprayed at random bits of the old wood," The aprons and uniforms are in there." She clarified, as Sacris had predicted.

Ambling back to the oak wood cutting board, she grasped the freshly sharpened knife at her right with the sureness of a professional and resumed chopping up the walnuts for the Amish bread topping. A pot to her left simmered with supervision; grasping the infamous British leaves, porcelain teacups, and a mini strainer, she efficiently prepared the tea, pouring the boiling water with a maintained elegance.

Michael had to admit that the noirette maintained an impressive felicity in a kitchen.

Although, the reason why a head chef wore such raggedy garments still eluded him.

_**"Ro-chan, would you put the ingredients in for another batch? I don't think this'll be enough."** _The woman requested warmly, her rough hands brushing to dust the flour from them. 'The people here speak German.' The demon concluded evenly.

**_"Okay. Will do."_ **His master did too, apparently. Who taught her German?

After dressing himself in the appropriate clothes, he sauntered to the pale chef. Without regard for warning him, she shoved, _shoved _ a raw, slimy ham in his arms. "Cut these into little squares, please." She solicited expectantly. She signaled to the apparatuses in question, as she elucidated, "The knives are in that drawer, and the cutting boards are in that drawer." Unable to disregard a request from his master, he began following the mundane order.

His interest had been piqued.

"Who taught you German?" was said casually, not trying to gather attention.

"Oh, no one. I'm so sorry. I didn't explain anything." She began genuinely,"Some of the servants here weren't actually born in England. Because of this, they didn't understand what the higher-ups were telling them, and it very heavily affected their ability to perform their duties. So, I took it upon myself to learn their language and teach them mine. I know enough Spanish, German and French to keep a conversation...And I know a little bit of Russian and Japanese, too." She simplified, holding her index finger and thumb closely when sheepishly saying the last part.

'Impressive. Learning multiple languages in such a small amount of time takes incredible dedication and intelligence. It took _me_ more than twelve years to master those languages.'

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Don't mess with Robin when she's in a kitchen. Nuff said. She pretty smart. Any theories as to why?


	12. Chapter 12

**Note: The spelling of Sebastian's nickname(?...) has been changed and I am fixing the other chapters now.  
**

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The windows in the bustling kitchen were unlatched, a pleasant morning breeze wafting over the active staff.

Mikhail was meticulously yet efficiently slicing the thick ham as had been demanded by the twelve year-old chef. The older white-faced gentleman to the left of the demon was shoving a cup over the malleable dough, sculpting perfectly round crumpets. The short brunette woman to the right of the demon was smashing garlic with an impressive passion and simultaneously dicing potent onions.

"We have guests today." Robin didn't turn to gaze at him when her uncharacteristically soft British tone drifted to his ears, and she continued with a faint titter,"It was quite lucky that you came in today; if not, we would have run around like headless chickens as we normally do. " Taking on a more formal pitch,"The guests are Mr. and Mrs. Craston and their children- two boys, four girls. For breakfast, we will be serving omelets, crumpets, and tea." The brew that she had poured earlier was made for herself apparently, as she had taken a large, almost sloppy gulp from the porcelain teacup after informing him of the morning's activities.

The short brunette woman had lifted her head before introducing herself. "Hello, I'm Hadelinde, but mos' folks call me Haddy. Nice t' meet cha." She grabbed his slimy hand and shook it. "An' that there," Pointing to the large gentleman at the demon's left," is Gunthar. He's real' quiet." She spoke with a heavy, authentic German accent.

After the final ham squares were carved, he handed the finished product to the young chef when she requested for them. As she tossed the various ingredients into the sauté pan and sprinkled the oil over the fresh veggies, Sacris threw open the door with no regard for announcing his arrival.

"The Crastons are early." He informed and left just as swiftly as he had arrived.

"I suppose we _are_ going to run around like headless chickens, _again_. This is the fourth time." Her voice, along with the rest of her, was exasperated. "Alright, Gunthar, please give the crumpets to me. Haddy, stir the jam and prepare the honey butter." Her orders were hasty but precise as was her movements. Robin grabbed a flamethrower and,very carefully, aimed the fire near the crumpets to lightly sear them while the dark-haired devil was brazenly reminded the _another_ chef who was terribly fond of flamethrowers. After the little pastries were an even golden-brown color, she placed them in the oven to perfect the centers. When they were done, the staff dressed and plated the little pastries. Robin and Mikhail spritned to serve the overly snobby guests.

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**I could give you a million excuses, but I'll just say it. Sorry about the wait!**


End file.
